


Echo In The Hills

by codasaurusb



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau can see ghosts, F/F, Magic isn't real, Modern AU, You cannot stop me, as little angst as possible, molly is dead, still using fantasy races though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codasaurusb/pseuds/codasaurusb
Summary: Beau hasn't believed in ghosts since she was little, but here one is now, floating around and criticizing her taste in fashion.Molly's always had a gift for making people better, bringing them together. A little thing like death isn't going to stop him from helping the people he loves.





	1. Chapter 1

There are times when Beau regrets letting Jester make decisions on her own.

Like now, for instance. When Jester had bounced into their shared apartment kitchen to tell Beau that her mom was lending her money to buy her first house, Beau had given her free rein over whatever house she could find. Truth to be told, Beau had no interest in touring houses, and paperwork gave her a headache, so Jester was really doing her a favor by taking over completely. And Jester had asked for her approval before actually going through with the deal. Beau had done some cursory checks on google maps, sure, but most of it was making sure that there was public transportation nearby, and that it wasn't smack-dab in the middle of a bad neighborhood. 

Suffice to say, Beau isn't feeling great about the house now that she looks at it. Standing out from the plain houses surrounding it, the house is painted a lively shade of lilac, with a bright red front door. There are window planters that Beau suspects once held flowers, but right now, they're a mess of dead plant matter and dry earth. The walkway up to the door has weeds growing through the bricks, and the entire place gives off a lonely, abandoned air.

"Jes," Beau calls. Her roommate pokes her head out of the back of the U-haul the two of them have rented.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Uh, Jes, are you sure anyone has lived here in the last couple years?"

She can hear the tiefling huff from where she's standing. "If you had come along to the open house, you would know...."

"Okay, okay," Beau says. "Seriously, though, this place has some weird vibes."

"The owner moved out a couple weeks ago," Jester concedes. "She said that it felt weird to live in there alone, and I mean, it was kind of sad, you know, her housemate died and that's why she was selling the place." 

"Wait, her roommate-"

"Yeah, apparently he died because someone stabbed him and they couldn't get him to the hospital fast enough."

"Jes, no offense, but what the fuck? You want the murder house?"

"It was really cheap," Jester says defensively. "And he didn't get stabbed in there. He got stabbed while he was working."

Beau makes a noncommittal sound. 

"Are you scaaaaaaared, Beau?" Jester teases.

"No," Beau says crossly. "I just feel like you might have warned me beforehand." 

"Whatever. Come here, I need your help to carry the sofa in."

This turns out to be almost embarrassingly false; Jester is stronger than she looks, and could probably manage the entire sofa herself, if the thing wasn't so unwieldy. Nevertheless, Beau helps her carry it in, waits patiently for her to stop debating where to put it, and goes back outside for more boxes. After the furniture is in, they spend the better part of the day just moving boxes into the house, not bothering to sort them. Finally, muscles aching, Beau sets the last box inside with a loud  _thunk_ and stands with her hands on her hips.

"All done," she says.

"Welllllll," Jester begins, "we do still have to unpack and sort everything and figure out where stuff goes and-"

"Too depressing, Jes. Let's just take the truck back."

Jester takes pity on her. "Why don't you take it back, and I'll carry all of your boxes up to your room because you look really tired, and we can get pizza and celebrate having a house."

Beau nods, too tired to take offense. "Yeah, okay." She holds up her hand, and Jester tosses her the keys.

It's unnerving, driving the truck. Beau isn't a terribly good driver in the best of scenarios, despite what she publically pretends to believe, and in the truck she drives at a speed that she normally would scoff at. Fortunately for her, the other people on the road give her a wide berth anyway, so she arrives safe and sound, drops off the truck, and gets a ride home with no problems.

It is late, though. Jester has gotten a head start on unpacking, and they have actual plates to eat off of, and Jester's even found their store of wine. They crack open a bottle and sit around the table that took half an hour to maneuver into the room. 

"Sooooooo?" Jester asks. "What do you think?"

Beau searches for an adjective that is not "purple". "Pretty cool that we have our own place," she says noncommittally. "Seems like it can use some work, though."

Jester rolls her eyes. "I think it's really nice." She goes into a long explanation of the advantages of this house over the other ones she looked at, and Beau, exhausted, tunes most of it out, just nodding and asking questions when it's expected of her. 

"I dumped your mattress on the floor," Jester says. "You can sleep on that tonight."

"Yeah, sure, just lemme wash up," Beau says, gathering the dishes. Jester gently but firmly pulls the plates away from her.

"No, silly, you look so tired, and you never get enough sleep, and I don't mind washing up tonight."

"Thanks, Jes."

"You owe meeeeeeeee," Jester calls after her, and Beau has to smile at that.

It takes her a bit to navigate the house, but eventually she finds what must be her room: it's got her bed (minus the frame) and her backpack in it.

It also has a person in it.

Beau squints at him, exhaustion blurring what would normally be a panicked response. It's a purple tiefling, big coat, red eyes, covered in scars.  _Something's off,_ she thinks, before realizing she can see the edge of the window  _through_ him, and he's floating a couple inches above the ground. She considers it for a little bit. Either ghosts are real, or she's going insane, but either one can wait until the morning. She stalks into the room and dumps the contents of her backpack onto the floor. It's an overnight kit; laptop, toothbrush, charger cords, pajamas, a couple clean sets of clothes.

"Are you  _shitting_ me," the ghost-or-hallucination says. "Not only is all of the furniture you've unpacked teal, you're literally wearing all teal. I can't tell if this is a design nightmare or a fashion nightmare."

Beau grits her teeth and ignores it.

"I feel like I shouldn't be surprised," he says. "With an undercut like that, this is clearly a case of tacky lesbian fashion."

Beau feels attacked.

"Three guesses as to what color her pajamas are," he says, and floats toward her. "Yep! All teal. Now, normally I'd admire commitment to an aesthetic like that, but the monochromatic thing is really going to get old."

Beau leaves to brush her teeth, and prays internally that when she gets back the tiefling will be gone.

He is not, and is floating aimlessly around the room when she gets back. Whatever. She reaches for the hem of her shirt, and is about to pull it over her head when she realizes that he's looking at her, and that's just  _weird._

"Hey, uh," she says awkwardly, "can you turn around?"

He looks completely bemused. "What?"

"I'm about to change, and it's really weird that you're watching," she says.

"You can see me?"

"Dude," Beau says. "I'm trying to get changed here."

He turns around reluctantly. "But you can see me and hear me?"

"Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be talking to you, would I?" She changes as rapidly as possible. It's still weird.

"I mean, no, but... nobody's been seeing me, lately. Not since I died."

"Funny how that happens."

"How come you can see me?"

"I have no fucking idea, my dude."

"Are all of your clothes teal?"

Beau glares at the back of his translucent head. "What's wrong with teal?"

"Nothing, unless all of your clothes and things are teal."

"You're purple," Beau points out. "Your coat is purple. Your house is purple. I've never seen your furniture, but..."

"I owned lots of differently colored furniture," the ghost says loftily. "All colors, in fact. I like things colorful."

"So it clashed?"

"Only if you're boring. Can I turn back around yet?"

"Fine."

The ghost turns back around and holds out a hand.

"I'm Mollymauk. Molly, to my friends."

"I'm Beau," Beau says, and takes his hand. Or would have, anyway, had her hand not passed through Molly's. Molly cackles. "The look on your face! Did you really think you could shake hands with a ghost? I'm  _incorporeal,_ see?"

"Dude," Beau says as he sticks his arm through her. "Can you chill? I'm trying to sleep."

"Fine," he says. "I'll go haunt your roommate. Girlfriend?"

"Roommate."

"Shame," he says. "She's very attractive." And before Beau can say anything, he sinks through the floor and is gone.

It's a testament to how tired Beau is that she doesn't lie awake thinking about the fact that she's just seen a ghost. As it is, she manages to make a mental note to ask Jester about the last people to live here before she's out like a light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's been so long, it's just that organic chemistry is sucking the soul out of my body :)

There's a moment, when Beau wakes up, where she convinces herself that everything yesterday was just a  _weird ass dream._

Unfortunately for that happy thought, when she turns, sleepily, to grab for her phone, she's confronted by a pair of red eyes looking at her. She groans, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"Dude, you  _can't_ watch me sleep, I'm sorry. That's crossing the fuckin' line."

"I'm very bored," Molly says petulantly. "Your roommate isn't paying any attention to me, and you didn't wake up when I yelled for you."

"You tried to wake me up because you were bored?" Beau glares daggers at him. "You're lucky I'm a heavy sleeper, or I would have double-killed you. You'd be a bored little double-ghost hanging around."

"I'm sure," Molly drawls. "Anyway, I wanted to ask about Yasha."

"Who the fuck is Yasha?"

He looks askance at her. "Yasha is the woman who owned this house before. My best friend."

"Oh." Beau slips out of bed and pads over to her slippers, ignoring the aches and pains from moving boxes all of yesterday. "I dunno, Jester did all of the, uh, house hunting or whatever. I just kinda came along."

"I need to know how she's doing," Molly says. There's a kind of nervous energy to him right now; his hands are never still, fiddling with each other. "I've been trapped here since she moved out, and there's no way I can get a message from her or anything, and  _she_ doesn't hear me, and-"

"Okay, okay," Beau says, doing her best to be patient. "Molly, my man, that's cool and everything, but I don't know her. I will, however, ask Jester about her, once I'm dressed."

Molly sighs. "Yeah, sorry."

They stand there for a second before Beau glares at him. "Molly, that's your cue to leave. I need to get dressed."

"Ah. Right." He disappears through the floor, suddenly, and Beau has to swallow a yelp. She dives into her backpack, pulls out clothes mostly at random, and dresses. One of the advantages of having an established color scheme; it's very hard to clash.

She bounds downstairs, following the smell of coffee and eggs- Jester can't cook a lot of things, but it's hard to fuck up scrambled eggs- and is astonished, when she walks into the kitchen, to find that it's actually mostly unpacked and clear of boxes. Jester wakes up early, and is evidently a force of nature.

"Good mooooooorning," Jester says, sing-song. 

"Jes, look at the kitchen! You did a, uh, really good job," Beau says.

"Ask her about Yasha now," Molly's voice says from right behind her. She jumps and curses.

"What?" Jester asks, and Beau realizes how that must look.

"Uh, nothing. Just sore from yesterday."

"I thought you were all tough and athletic and everything," Jester says smugly. "How are you supposed to be a gymnastics teacher if you can't do that?"

"It's not necessarily about strength," Beau grumbles. 

"Beau," Molly says, and Beau manages to keep her face neutral. "Beau, I cannot interact with the world with the exception of through you."

It takes all of her willpower not to snap at him to leave her be. Instead, she glares meaningfully at him, then turns to Jester and says, "So, uh, just out of curiosity, who actually lived in here before us? The house is really weird."

"Hey!" Molly says. "It is, but I resent the tone in which you say that."

At the same time, Jester, shoveling eggs onto a plate, says, "I told you, there was this guy who got super murdered, and his friend, and she was really sad and sold the house."

It strikes Beau that now would be a good time to see if she's just going insane. "What are their names?"

"The woman we bought the house from was called Yasha," Jester says. She purses her lips, tapping a fork thoughtfully against them. "I think she mentioned her friend, but I don't remember his name."

"Mollymauk?" Beau asks.

"Yeah!" Jester says, snapping her fingers. Then her eyes narrow. "Wait, why are you asking now? And how did you know that?"

"Uhhhh..." Beau says, put on the spot. "I was.... googling it."

"The friend's name wasn't on the listing," Jester says, her face screwing up even more. "Beauuuuuu, you know you can't lie to me...."

"Oooh, you're really screwed now," Molly says conversationally.

"Uhhhh... Jes, can I say something weird?" 

"You already are. But yes, you have my permission."

"Uhhh........ I can kind of see his ghost. And also, I'm the only one. And he's right here."

Jester's face clears. "Oh! Okay, that makes sense. Hi, Molly's ghost!" She waves at the approximate location where Molly is hovering.

"Wait, you believe me?" Beau says, surprised.

"Of course!"

"I, uh. Kind of expected that you'd take more convincing, just given how crazy that sounds."

"Beau," Jester says solemnly, "I told you the Traveller visits me. I know nobody really believes me, but he's really there, it's not some kind of religious experience or anything. Or, well, it is! But he's really really there. So it makes sense to me if you see something nobody else does." She gives a genuine, tiny smile, which then widens. "Also, you're acting super weird and funny and you knew his name. So, like, what else am I supposed to think?"

Beau is honestly shocked into silence. She'd always doubted Jester's Traveller stories- after all, the tiefling had a vivid imagination and a passion for storytelling. "Uh, sorry," she says ruefully. "I guess that was pretty shitty of me, huh."

"Absolutely," Molly says cheerfully. "Extremely rude."

"Oh, fuck off," Beau says, rolling her eyes. "Not you, Jes. He's a little shit."

"What's he liiiiike, Beau?" Jester asks, migrating to the table. 

"He's a tiefling, uh, pretty tall I guess? Hard to tell, because he keeps floating around. He's all purple, and dressed in purple- this big purple coat, I mean. And he's got red eyes and piercings. Gaudy motherfucker."

"This is very weird," Molly says. "You describing me while I'm standing right here, I mean."

At the same time, Jester says, "Is he preeeeettyyyyyy?"

"Okay, you two need to stop talking at the same time," Beau says, glaring. "I can't concentrate on two conversations at once."

"How am I supposed to know that he's talking?" Jester points out.

"Fair enough. Okay, Molly, wait for her to finish before you start."

"That's unfair," Molly says. "Why does she get to be more important than me?"

"Because she can't fucking hear this, you prick," Beau says, annoyed. She doesn't deal well with people in the morning, and Molly is exceptionally annoying.

"What did he say?" Jester asks eagerly. Beau closes and rubs her eyes. 

"Jes, I love you, but if I have to repeat everything, I'll go insane."

"Oh. That's true, I guess." She droops a little. 

Beau sighs. "I'll tell you if it's important, ok?" She remembers the whole point of this. "Also, he wanted me to ask about Yasha."

Jester perks up. "She was so cool, Beau. She was like, super tall and buff, and she had cool tattoos, and she has this really fun voice where it's all soft but also spooky."

"I know that already," Molly complains. "I want to know if she's okay. Beau, tell her I want-"

"Is she okay?" Beau asks, to forestall any whining.

"I dunno," Jester asks. "She seems really sad, and she said she was going to go camping for a couple months before she came back to work."

"Yeah, that's Yasha. She's going to basically disappear for a while. Usually, she'd bring her phone, and I could call her, but I'm... dead, and I doubt her number is connected anymore." Molly says, with a quiver in his voice that makes Beau, despite herself, feel bad for him. _Aaaand that's enough of that. I don't need some random stranger's emotional baggage._  She grabs a mug of coffee and joins Jester at the table.

She's known Jester long enough to know when Jester is trying to not ask an impolite question, and Jester's tail is swishing in the tell-tale way. "C'mon, then, out with it," she says to Jester, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Sooooooo... did you know you could talk to ghosts?" Jester asks.

"Gods, no," Beau says, and then frowns. "Actually, I used to have this imaginary friend. Drove my fuckin' parents crazy, that they had a weirdo kid. His name was Vax, and he told me that he was dead? I don't know. He wasn't like Molly, though, he came and went. And when we moved, I never saw him again. Figured that was all just really vivid imagination stuff though, I dunno."

"That was probably a ghost! Beau, that's so cool!"

"Also," Beau says, gesturing to try to get Molly's attention. "Hey! Purple dude! This pertains to you."

"It's Molly," Molly says.

"Whatever. Uh, he could actually do shit. Like, he could move things?"

"Wait, what?" Jester says.

"I can't," Molly says, sticking his arm ineffectually through the table.

"Maybe it's an age thing?" Beau says. 

"Beau, what's going on?" Jester asks.

"Sorry, Jes. Uh, we're just talking about why Molly can't move anything."

"Maybe he hasn't tried something small enough," Jester says, and reaches into her pocket, pulling out her ever-present notebook. She flips through pages of doodles before arriving at the first blank page. She sets it down on the table and scoots her chair back, watching eagerly. "Turn the page!"

"Interesting idea," Molly says, not looking terribly hopeful. He flicks at the notebook, and nothing happens. His hands pass through it, over and over again. He pauses, glares at the notebook, and reaches out again. This time, even though the page doesn't turn, something happens. It's like his hand has caught on it for a second, somehow, before pulling free. The corner of the page flicks uo a millimeter before settling back down.

Jester lets out a delighted squeal, and Molly, looking suddenly, terribly hopeful, tries again. Whatever happened, it doesn't repeat itself.

"That's really good though!" Jester says, looking in completely the wrong direction. "Maybe you just need some practice, or something. I can leave the paper out or something, if you want."

"She really is a little ray of sunshine," Molly says, considering Jester's beaming face. "I have to say, I'm astounded that she ended up rooming with a grumpy asshole like you."

Beau glares at him. "Look, wise-ass, I didn't pick that you got me and not her."

Molly shrugs. "I know, I know. This isn't ideal for me either. But we're stuck with each other, until you move away or I figure out how to move."

"What's going on?" Jester asks plaintively.

Beau looks between the two of them- her curious, nosy, energetic roommate, and the eccentric purple tiefling whose very existence is both depressing and maddening- and puts her face in her hands.

Gods, she wishes she had thought to vet the house before they moved here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look I never said that this wasn't going to take a long time

Beau can't tell whether or not the weirdness of the next week is due to moving to a new house, the inherent chaos of unpacking, or  _maybe it's the fucking ghost that's hanging around_. Regardless of the cause, she feels weirdly out of place, ill at ease when she's sitting at home.

Luckily, she isn't at home all day. Dairon had let her take a couple days off of work, but it was clear when she returned to work that her absence had taken a toll on her boss. She was snappish and brooked no arguments about her schedule, despite Beau's protestations. (She'd been scheduled to teach a couple sections of the beginners gymnastics camp, and Beau was always wary about teaching little kids; they always seemed so breakable, somehow.) All the same, it's a welcome distraction from the absolute chaos of returning home.

Jester's out of work, temporarily, which is a blessing and a curse. On the plus side, she's the one who's been tackling the majority of unpacking and organizing the house. On the other hand, she's bored out of her mind, which Beau only realizes the implications of when she gets home to find that Jester's begun a mural of flowers in the kitchen.

"Jes," Beau says, sweaty and just wishing she could jump in a shower, "remember, uh. Remember how we said we'd agree on the decoration of the communal spaces?"

Jester looks at her with big, wide eyes. "I know, but Beau, look how pretty the kitchen will look with flowers in it! I thought you'd really like a surprise before you got home from work, but then it looked weird with just a couple flowers, and so I made it bigger, and don't you think it'll be really pretty?"

"I mean, it's pretty and everything, but Jester, you gotta discuss things with me first."

Jester pouts. "Fiiiiiiine. I'll just paint over it, and we can go back to a boring wall."

"Spoilsport," Molly says, appearing behind her and scaring her shitless for the third time in a week. Beau jumps involuntarily, swallowing an instinctive squawk. "You know, she's a really good artist, and it definitely livens the place up."

Besieged on both sides, Beau decides, what the fuck, it's a pretty mural anyway, and says, "Nah, Jes, I, uh, I really like it, it's just... ask first next time, yeah?"

Jester grins from ear to ear and dashes forward, grabbing Beau in her arms and spinning her around. It's nice; Jester's a good hugger, all softness and strength. She sets Beau down carefully and goes back to adding detail to leaves. Beau chuckles and shakes her head, heading for the shower.

"You know, you've got paint on your shirt," Molly says, following her. Beau looks down and curses. 

"Can you stop following me, man?" she asks peevishly. She's tired.

"You're the only one who can see me," he points out.

"Why does that mean I have to be your babysitter?"

"Do you really think I don't hate this?" Molly asks, and his tone is so conversational that for a second Beau doesn't grasp the meaning of the words. "Imagine being me for a second. You're used to being glorious and loved and cared for, and then you die, and nobody can see you, and you're trapped in a house, and you think  _oh well, even if she can't see me, I've still got my best friend,_ and then she leaves, and you're alone. And when new people move in, one of them can see you, and you're excited to finally have your existence validated, but it turns out she's just a fucking prick."

It's quite a speech, for someone who rarely does more than hang around commenting on her choices in an infuriating manner. When Beau pauses to look at him, halfway up the stairs, his face looks like his usual cocky, self-confident mask slipped. 

She takes a breath, sighs. "Sorry, Molly. Can you just... give me 15 minutes, yeah? Then we can talk."

"Yeah," he says, looking almost as taken aback as she feels. "Good idea."

Beau showers, changes, and decides now is as good a time as any. "Molly?" she calls. "Uh, you can come in now I guess? If you can hear me?"

He's shrugging even as he slides through a wall, making Beau twitch. "Look, I don't know how this works either."

"Okay, dude, we need to set some fucking ground ru-"

Jester opens the door, barging into the room and crashing through Molly, which makes Beau cringe somehow. "Is something happening?" she asks eagerly. "What's Molly doing?"

Beau groans. "Okay, you can be here for this, that's a good idea, but please wash your hands."

"Oh right!" She darts into Beau's bathroom, and after thirty seconds returns with clean, paint-free hands.

"Okay, so both of you need to be quiet for a little bit because I don't know how to moderate this, but basically I think we need to, uh, talk about. Molly's situation." She pauses for a second to make sure she won't get cut off, but surprisingly, both tieflings stay quiet. 

"So like, ghosts aren't really something I understand, but I've had, like, a lot of roommates," she says. "And I think we basically need to draw up an agreement for both parties, because it's clear we're not really, effectively communicating I guess? Jes, you got your notebook?"

As ever, Jester's notebook is present and useful. Beau rips a sheet of paper off and borrows a pencil from Jester.

"So, just, like, brainstorming, let's take turns and say boundaries and things we need people to do. We can hash out the different rules later, but what do you all want? Uh, I'll start. I really need Molly to use some  _fucking doors,_ because walking through walls and ceilings and shit is unsettling." She waves a hand to cut off his protests. "I need some alone time, and I know we're gonna have to debate that, but I can't constantly be interacting with you, Molly, sorry. I need a guarantee that you won't, like, walk in while I'm changing, or showering or something, so maybe some kinda open door system?" She thinks. "Yeah, that's just about it. Jes?"

"I don't care if he sees me naked," Jester says nonchalantly. Molly's eyebrows go up. "But like, if I bring a  _friend_ over to, you know," her fingers move in a descriptive way as she hums, "I don't want him to watch that because it would be weird. Also, I want him to learn how to leave signs so that I can communicate better, because, you know, I talk to him all the time, but I can't ever tell if I'm boring or if he's listening." She shrugs. "That's it!"

"Okay. Molly?"

"Well, first of all, please tell Jester that I do listen to her, and it's very kind of her to try to include me even though she has no evidence of my presence," Molly says. Beau communicates this to Jester, who looks delighted, tail swishing around. "I want to talk to you." When Beau's about to point out she can't stop him, he continues, "I mean have a conversation. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to not be acknowledged ever?"

"Fine. Anything else?"

"Honestly, I'd be satisfied with that."

It takes the better part of half an hour to write something down that satisfies them all, but by the end of it, Beau feels calmer, like she's sorted through the chaos. It's nice to have some expectations.

"Okay, well," Jester says, "I have an idea, so I'm going to be  _right back._ " Before Beau can even ask, she's gone.

"Energetic little thing," Molly says. "Weirdly, she somehow reminds me of Nott."

"Of not what?"

"My boyfriend's best friend," Molly says, then pauses. "Or. I guess ex-boyfriend, he's probably moved on by now, I guess."

"Shit, man," Beau says. "I'm sorry."

Molly gives an eloquent shrug. "I suppose everything ends sometime." There's an awkward pause.

"So, did you have a lot of friends?" Beau says, when it gets awkward.

"I had enough," Molly says wistfully. "Yasha, Caleb, Nott. Fjord too, I guess."

"Shit, man," Beau says again. "Do you miss them?"

"Yeah," Molly says. "I mean, I miss most forms of interaction."

Beau's heart hurts a little bit at that. "Tell me about them."

And so Molly does, as Beau listens. He's a fantastic storyteller, she realizes; by the time Jester crashes back into her room, an hour later, it really does feel like she knows most of them personally, with maybe the exception of Yasha- Molly doesn't say much about her, as if talking about it is too raw and painful.

" _Okayokayokay,"_ Jester babbles, tearing open the bag she had brought, "so I was  _thinking_ how do I communicate with a ghost, and-"

"Jes," Beau says wearily, "Did you seriously buy a fucking ouija board to talk to our ghost roommate?"

"Not a bad idea," Molly says as Jester sets it out with hands trembling with excitement. "I mean, I've gotten better with the paper, the other day I managed to lift it up halfway."

"You're welcome to try," Beau says, sitting back on the bed.

It's funny to watch, actually, seeing both sides, Jester sitting with her hands on the planchette, Molly's brow furrowed with concentration as he tried to move it too.

"H... I.... J... E... S... T... E... R... Hi Jester!" Jester says triumphantly. "I knew it would work!"

Molly looked less excited. "That's hard," he says. "Doesn't seem like the best way of communication."

"Better get practicing, then," Beau says, interested in spite of herself. "I mean, turning a page got easier, you said, so. Maybe you just need to get better."

Molly looks thoughtful, then determined. He leans back over, and there's silence for ten minutes.

"Beau!" Jester says out of the blue.

"Yeah?" Beau sets her phone down.

"Molly says to tell you you're a dick."


	4. Chapter 4

Slowly but surely, the house shifts with the unrelenting pressure of Jester and Molly's shenanigans.

It starts with the fridge.

"Hey, Jester?" Beau asks when she sees it.

"Okay, so I know you said no more murals-"

"I absolutely did," Beau says, sighing. "This was not unclear, Jes, this was.... you failed step one, Jester."

"It's not a mural," Molly says, giving her the  _shit-eatingest grin_. "This is ghost accommodation, Beau. Don't be a fucking  _bigot."_

Beau knows he's yanking her chain, but she's riled up anyway. "Listen, Casper, maybe I just want to get juice without some Stranger Things bullshit?"

"Okayyyyyy, Beauuuuuu, but look!" Jester says, practically vibrating with excitement. "Molly, show her how it works!"

Molly winks at Beau and walks to the fridge. Jester has hand painted letters onto the door, and as she watches, Molly drags a magnet across the fridge, pausing at letters.  _H-I-J-E-S-T-E-R._

"Pretty cool, right?" Jester says.

"I mean, I'm sure that's really spooky when you see a magnet scooting around on its own, but like, Jester, I'm just watching a dude play with a fridge magnet, so this really isn't awe inspiring for me," Beau points out.

"Oh, right." Jester pauses for a moment, but she's back to her usual perky self in seconds. "But now Molly can communicate better with me and I don't have to have the board with me all the time, isn't that cool?"

"What if you're in a different room?" Beau asks.

"Huh," Jester says. "Okay, I didn't think of that, BUT I can figure it out, probably, right Molly?"

_Y-E-S_

Beau almost regrets pointing that out to Jester when, a few days later, a package comes, and Jester tears it open with a suspiciously metal sound.

"Jes," Beau says. "What the fuck is that?"

Molly's up off the sofa in a flash, scooting through a table to get there faster.

"Bells," he says. "Little jingly ones."

"They're for Molly!" Jester says, mercifully after Molly. "So like, he can ring one if he needs my attention."

"No," Beau says firmly. "Jester, no, I'm putting my fucking foot down here, we are not giving this dipshit another way to be loud around me. Please, no."

Beau is outvoted.

After the first few days of Molly incessantly jingling the bells purely to fuck with her (she's never been so angry she can't punch someone in her life), Beau has to admit that she kind of likes the new system. She'll be browsing the web, or playing a game, or just trying to nap when she hears a soft jingle, and then the murmur of voices and Jester's delighted giggles. Somehow, it normalizes having a ghost floating around her house. Their house.

Molly's also not... the worst roommate she's ever had. Beau has to admit that. It's two weeks into the new arrangement when he walks through the door to find her huddled in a ball, crying like a little kid.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, sardonic as ever. "Just found out teal's gone out of fashion?"

"Fuck off," Beau says, but her heart isn't in it, and Molly notices.

"What happened?" he asks, and when Beau shakes her head, he asks, softer, "Should I call Jester?"

"No," Beau says. Jester's.... sweet, but she's a lot to deal with, and right now Beau doesn't want to be cheered up.

"Tell me about it?" Molly says, the pitch of his voice rising in- well, it's not quite a question, but it's not an order, either, like he wants to just say it but he's not sure that he has the authority.

"Just my dad," Beau croaks. "Real fuckin'  _prick_."

Molly snorts, and when she looks at him, he's on her bed, cross legged. She's almost tempted to ask if he's just levitating or if he can somehow connect with it, but it would ruin the moment. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. It's always dads, isn't it? What happened?"

"The usual," Beau says, sniffing and dragging her arm across her eyes. "I'm a real  _failure_ of a child. Dropped out of college, living with the daughter of a porn star, can't even take care of the family business, disgracing the family name. You know."

"Wait, Jester is-"

"Ruby of the Sea," Beau says, and tries to finish the rest of the song, but her voice breaks like a teenage boys, and she and Molly both cackle.

"That's amazing," Molly says. "God, that woman is... goals, to be honest."

"Like, to fuck, or, like, you want to be her?"

"Well. Both, if we're honest, but now it's weird because I want to fuck Jester's mom?"

"Can't blame you, dude. Jester's mom has got it going on."

They grin, at that. Molly's smile drops a little. "I mean, you said your dad was a prick."

"Real douchecanoe," Beau says, aiming for cheerful. By Molly's expression, she's missed.

"He just... sends you abuse often?"

"I mean, I think he's still sore that I'm not majoring in business," Beau says. "I mean, he thought I'd take over the business, or be a partner, or- whatever it is that's legal these days? I don't fuckin' know, man. I dropped out."

"Does he financially support you?"

Beau snorts. "Nah, dude. He made it pretty clear that if I didn't shape up..." she trails off.

"So why not just block him?"

"I don't know," Beau says. She's thought about it a lot. "Like, I know this is some sappy kids shit, but there's a part of me that thinks maybe he'll send me a nice text every once in a while. Like,  _oh hey Beau, I know that I've said a lot of bullshit, but I was wrong and I love you unconditionally_ _actually because I'm your dad and that's what I'm supposed to-"_ she has to swallow a sob.

"Now, I don't really have much experience with family, so take this with a grain of salt, but... in my experience, assholes stay assholes."

Beau sniffs, looking steadfastly away from him. "Yeah. Sounds about right, but... he's my dad."

"Doesn't seem like he wants to be," Molly says, and the truth of the statement hits her like a physical pain. "Doesn't deserve to be, for sure. Block the fucker."

Beau nods. "Yeah. That's... probably a good idea."

"I dare you," Molly says, and when she looks up at him, there's a ghost (ha) of a smile on his otherwise deadpan face. "I double dog dare you."

"Aw shit," Beau says, all wide eyed sincerity. "I don't know that I can turn that down."

"Triple dog dare you, Beau."

"Shit, man, can't turn down a triple dog dare or I'm a coward," Beau says, and picks her phone up. The stab of disappointment she feels hurts, seeing the texts again, but she holds onto that, tells herself  _fuck that. Be mad at the bastard,_ and blocks him.

"Hell yeah," Molly says, and holds out a fist, cackling when Beau unconsciously tries to reciprocate and phases through him. "Sucker. Still incorporeal."

"Douchebag," Beau says, but smiles despite herself. "That's gonna get real fuckin old, Molly."

"Not for me," he says, grinning. "You be okay if I leave?"

"Yeah, man. Uh. Thanks."

He salutes her, and disappears through the floor. 

"Fuck you!" Beau yells. A bell tinkles in response, and she hears Jester's peals of laughter.

She showers, wiping the salt from her face and calming in the hot water, and the time makes her wonder what Molly meant about not having family experience.

Molly's talked a lot about his friends- Caleb, Nott, the rest, but he's never mentioned a mother, or a father. Any family at all, really.

When she emerges, after dressing, she sits at her computer and looks up "Mollymauk Tealeaf funeral." There's no obituaries, but she finds a listing on a graveyard website. It's bare bones, just his name and a few sentences. When Beau checks the address, she realizes that it's only a few blocks away.

 _No,_ she tells herself firmly.  _No fucking way are you going to a graveyard because you're all sad for your_ _house ghost. Not a fucking chance._

Five minutes later, she's on her way out the door.

It takes her a bit to find the grave, maybe because it's in the back, or maybe because she's quietly wondering why the hell she's visiting her roommate's grave. By any stretch of the imagination, it's fucking weird, but... she wants to know if anyone's mourning him.

It's a simple tombstone, just "Mollymauk Tealeaf," and a single date, a couple months ago- no birth date, weirdly. In smaller font, the gravestone maker engraved- well. It's either the weirdest blessing ever or a cruel joke: "Long may he reign."

It suddenly strikes Beau that Molly's fucking corpse is in the ground there, and she shudders involuntarily. It's not a terribly pleasant thought.

Bending down to look at the ground, she smiles. There are little knick-knacks scattered on the ground: little buttons, a sparkly stone, a little blown-glass cat. Molly's been mourned, or maybe someone just hopes he'll somehow find that. She thinks about taking them to show to him, pauses, and then decides the visual of grave-robbing is maybe a little bit weird. She pulls out her phone instead, takes a picture.

"Excuse me," someone says, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. It might be broad daylight, but it's a fucking weird mental state she's in right now.

"Uh, what's..." she trails off, looking at the woman.

She's unfairly hot, in a sort of buff, spooky way. Like, Beau's not dumb, she knows she's toned and what not, but this woman is fucking  _strong._ She's what Beau would have described as "pale as a ghost" before her current living situation- pale, with dark hair, like a sexy vampire. 

"You were taking a picture of my friend's grave," the woman says.

"Yeah," Beau manages. There's a pause where they both stare at each other, and holy shit her eyes are different colors.

"Why," the woman says finally. There's no rising inflection here.

"I thought he'd like it," Beau says before her brain can catch up to her mouth. The woman's eyebrows go up a bit. "I mean. Like. Uh, you know, people remembering him. And I'm worried I'll forget him. So I took a picture of his grave, so that... I can remember him?"

It's a shitty excuse, and both of them know that. There's a further few seconds of eye contact while Beau frantically alternates between social anxiety and trying to work out exactly how tall this woman is.

"Okay," she says. "Could you move now so that I can put flowers on my friend's grave?"

"Yeah, yeah," Beau says, internally screaming. "Uh, sorry." She stumbles backward, and the woman moves, setting down a bunch of what look to be wildflowers, not some packaged arrangement.

There's a pause, and the woman looks at her. "Sorry," she says, "I want to say some stuff, so could you leave?"

There's a second where Beau thinks she's actually going to fucking do it, she's going to tell this woman that Molly's ghost is hanging at her place and would she like to come over to say hi, but whatever gods are out there save her at the last second.

"Yeah," she says instead. "I'm, uh, leaving, but, do you want to... uh, I mean. I'm Beau." She sticks her hand out and lowers it five seconds later when the woman doesn't move. "Actually, I just remembered I need to go... to the gym... so I'll see you later, I guess." She beats a hasty and undignified retreat.

_what the fuck was that_

 


End file.
